


Perfect

by glittercracker



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Fluff and Humor, Honeymoon, M/M, Mild Smut, What Can Go Wrong Will Go Wrong, smutus interruptus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-16
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2019-07-13 06:35:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16012292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glittercracker/pseuds/glittercracker
Summary: "I want our wedding night to be perfect. And this isn’t perfect.” He regarded the brightening sky through the window. “Or night.”“And what exactly constitutes ‘perfect’?”Gon’s eyes danced. “You’ll see.” And with that, he wrapped his new husband in his arms and closed his eyes and refused to say any more.Gon has planned the perfect wedding night. But you know that saying about the best laid plans?





	Perfect

**Author's Note:**

> This is a side fic - or maybe better called a short sequel? - to my hxhbb18 fic "The Deepest Secret." You don't have to have read that fic to enjoy this one, but a few things won't make sense if you haven't. So if you haven't, you should know that 1.) Illumi has had a major personality transplant and is no longer evil 2.) Joji is an oc and Alluka's soulmate and 3.) Leorio and Kurapika have been married for about a year and a half, after 5-ish years as a couple. Liana is their adopted daughter, and the babies will be explained in a leopika fic I have yet to write!
> 
> Thank you to asterraticus (or whatever name he's using on here now!), Weisel and zaps for helping me think of things that could go wrong on a honeymoon, and for generally being up for late-night chats and anime-watching with this professional insomniac. Thanks to HanaKaicho for brainstorming island names (sorry I picked a boring one!) And thanks and all the hugs to the lovely fireolin for being the best of betas - enthusiastic, kind, but unafraid to call me out when I've got something wrong. She is also a wonderful writer, so please read her fics!

_There would be no need for love if perfection were possible._

_-_ _Eugene Kennedy_

 

 

“Finally, I get you to myself!” Killua said, tumbling Gon into his old bed in Mito’s house. Their wedding reception hadn’t ended so much as dispersed, those guests who were still conscious wandering off toward the waterfront bars on the off chance of finding one still open.

 

Killua tripped, and then toppled into bed beside him. He was decidedly tipsy – Illumi had brought a case of champagne to which Killua somehow wasn’t immune – and more than ready to answer the hungry side-eyed glances Gon had been giving him ever since they were pronounced husband-and-husband. But when Killua reached for the waistband of his underwear, Gon grabbed his hands and slammed them into the mattress.

 

“Don’t even think about it!” he said.

 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Killua asked. “We’re _married_ Gon! This is what married people _do_ on their wedding nights! In fact, if they don’t, then they aren’t actually married at all…I don’t think. Do you think? How does that even work? I mean, since we’ve done it before – like, a _lot –_ ”

 

Gon laughed, and stopped Killua’s drunken rambling with a kiss. “Oh, we’ll consummate the marriage – ” Killua groaned at the formality of the words “ – just not right now.”

 

Killua flopped back on the bed with an exasperated sigh, wondering what kind of half-assed reasoning had made Gon think it was a good idea to postpone this. “So when? On the first full moon? After you consult the local witch? When I get on my knees and beg?” He’d looked suspiciously at Gon then. “Should I beg?”

 

“I’m almost tempted by that…but no. I want our wedding night to be perfect. And this isn’t perfect.” He regarded the brightening sky through the window. “Or night.”

 

“And what exactly constitutes ‘perfect’?”

 

Gon’s eyes danced. “You’ll see.” And with that, he wrapped his new husband in his arms and closed his eyes and refused to say any more.

 

*

 

Killua awakened late in the morning to a headache and a distressingly empty bed, and the gut-deep punch of panic he always felt when Gon wasn’t where he was supposed to be. But then he looked toward Gon’s pillow and found a perfect, sky-blue Whale Island rose with a note tied around the stem. “Main pier. Noon. Don’t bother packing,” was all that it said. He grinned. He might not have any idea what Gon considered a perfect wedding night, but it looked like he was about to find out.

 

Their friends came to the pier to see him off, even the frazzled and hollow-eyed Leorio and Kurapika, each carrying one of their squirming, shrieking, six-month-old twins, Pairo and Pietro. Liana stood solemnly beside them, clearly taking her role as big sister very seriously.

 

“Any idea where I’m going?” Killua asked Liana.

 

She smiled, her dark eyes sparkling. “Yes. I know exactly where you’re going. And I promised Uncle Gon I wouldn’t tell even if you gave me all your chocolate!”

 

“He knows me too well,” Killua sighed.

 

“Be considerate about it all,” Illumi said, fretting as usual. “He’s tried hard.”

 

It was still strange to hear Illumi say anything non-hostile about Gon, let alone solicitous. But it was getting easier. Killua nodded to him.

 

“Have lots and _lots_ of fun!” Alluka said with a bright voice and teasing smile, earning a glare from her brother. She grinned at him, and then leaned over to kiss Joji. Killua gritted his teeth and said nothing. She was, after all, almost nineteen, and Joji had proven himself more than devoted to her.

 

“And don’t forget the birth control,” Leorio said through clenched teeth as Pairo, red-eyed and screeching, pulled off his glasses and flung them into the water.

 

“That is _our child_ you are talking about,” Kurapika said warningly, as everyone else pretended not to laugh.

 

“I think we’re good on that one, Leorio, but thanks.” Killua looked at his gathered friends and family. They’d likely be gone by the time he returned. “Thank you – all of you. For everything.” He submitted to hugs all around, and then he stepped onto the fishing boat.

 

*

 

The little island appeared on the horizon when Whale Island had long since fallen away. It was dusk when the boat reached the rickety dock jutting out from the white-sand beach. This island couldn’t be more than a mile or two long, and Killua had seen no sign of habitation other than a few flickering lights – tea lights, he saw now, lined in glass jars along the pier. He’d expected Gon to be waiting for him, but the dock was empty.

 

“Can you tell me where we are now?” Killua asked as the boat’s captain tied off to a piling.

 

“He’ll tell you everything you need to know,” he answered, with a small smile and twinkle in his dark eyes - just as he’d answered all of the other times during the afternoon that Killua had tried to get information out of him. As soon as Killua stepped onto the pier, he loosed the line and puttered back off into the falling night.

 

Killua turned and followed the line of candles along the pier and then down onto the beach. The sand was too fine to walk on properly in shoes, and so he took them off, letting the soft, cool grains slip between his toes. More jars of tea-lights led along the beach, and he followed them, watching the stars nick holes in the indigo sky. A crescent moon was rising over the water, low waves brushed the shore, and a warm breeze rustled the foliage of the forest lining the beach. Fireflies flickered green and blue and golden in its depths, and night insects whirred. Whatever this place was, it was certainly beautiful.

 

And then he rounded a point, and stopped short. He’d known since they were children that Gon was fond of grand gestures, and some of the dates he’d planned in the years since they’d come back together had been embarrassingly elaborate. But this was something else entirely.

 

The tea-lights led up to a large, square tent pitched in a dip of forest. It was as big as Mito’s living room, made of some white, billowy fabric, glowing softly as a spirit-lantern. The front panels were tied back, showing an interior set up simply but beautifully with a pallet bed covered in cushions, a low table laid with food and drinks, candle lanterns and jars of jungle flowers on every available surface.

 

But the beauty of the tent was nothing in comparison to the beauty of the man waiting within. Gon lay on the bed’s white coverlet, candlelight playing over the ridges and hollows of his sun-copper body, deepening the inky sweep of hair that now reached his shoulders. He wore nothing but a flimsy pair of white shorts, and he looked up at Killua with playful eyes.

 

“Well?” he asked. “Was it worth waiting for?”

 

There were no words to answer that. The exquisite being who had created all of this was Killua’s _husband_. The enormity of the fact – that Gon was his, and only his, forever – hadn’t quite hit him until that moment. Killua wanted to weep. Instead he crossed the distance between them in a blue-blurred instant, lacing their fingers as he kissed Gon greedily. He pulled back long enough to tear off his shirt and shorts, but when he reached for Gon’s, Gon stopped him.

 

“No. Wait.”

 

Killua groaned. “Wait _again?_ Why? I promise you, this is perfect!”

 

“Not quite,” Gon said, that teasing, laughing look back in his eyes. He ran his hands over Killua’s chest, looking for a moment like he regretted his own words. But then his face took on the look of resolve Killua knew only too well would be immovable.

 

“Gon,” he said, exasperated, “there is nothing in the world that I want right now more than I want you. Other than maybe two of you.”

 

“You couldn’t handle two of me,” Gon smirked. “But really, you can’t think of anything that might make our wedding night just a little bit better?”

 

“If you tease me for one more second I am going to kick your ass back to Whale Island!”

 

“Okay,” Gon said, “but first taste this.” He reached behind him for something and then traced Killua’s lips with his finger. It was sticky. Killua was about to recoil when he realized what he was tasting: chocolate.

 

Except that he had never tasted chocolate like this. There was a faint, heady tinge to it that was unlike anything he had ever encountered before, and it made it…well…perfect. “What is this?” he asked despite himself, licking the rest of it off of Gon’s finger. His lips tingled.

 

Gon laughed, pushed him off and sat up. “It’s the best chocolate you can get.”

 

Killua was inclined to agree, but: “I’m pretty sure I’ve tasted every chocolate you can buy, and I’ve never tasted this.”

 

“That’s because you can’t buy it,” Gon answered, reaching to the table behind him and picking up a plate holding a small, plain-looking chocolate cake and a fork. “It’s made with a type of vanilla that you can only find on the Dark Continent, and you can hardly even find it there.”

 

Killua narrowed his eyes. “Begging the question, how did _you_ get it?”

 

“It was a wedding present from Ging,” Gon said, digging into the cake with the fork.

 

“Nice of him to do something,” Killua said acridly, “given he couldn’t be bothered to show up for our wedding.”

 

Gon only shrugged. “He isn’t a wedding kind of person. And I don’t mind, really. Everyone who mattered was there.” He offered the forkful of cake to Killua, who couldn’t resist accepting, despite the origins of the chocolate. “You like it?”

 

Once again, Killua had no words. This taste was utter bliss, sharp and sparking on his tongue, and then melting into seductive sweetness. When he swallowed the bite, licking the icing from his lips, he said, “Don’t tell me Ging baked this.”

 

Gon made a face. “Of course not! I did! I made all of this, for you.” He swept an arm around the tent.

 

“You didn’t have to,” Killua said, caressing his cheek. Gon leaned into his palm, shutting his eyes, his lashes like sweeps of a calligraphy brush on his freckled cheeks.

 

“I wanted to,” Gon said. “I wanted to bring you here for our wedding night, and I wanted to make our wedding cake.”

 

“Didn’t Mito make our wedding cake?” Killua asked, swiping more icing with his finger and sucking it.

 

“This is the real one,” Gon said, opening his eyes. “There wasn’t enough of the chocolate for everybody, so I saved it just for us, and made it into a cake.” He smiled, looking up at Killua through his lashes. “And you know what that means, right?”

 

Gods, was Gon _flirting_ with him? And how could it still unravel him as succinctly as it had the first time? “I’m finding it a little hard to think, to be honest,” Killua said. It was true. He felt flushed, and a little dizzy.

 

“I fed you,” Gon said, turning to kiss Killua’s palm. “Tradition says that you should feed me.”

 

Killua gave him a half-smile, and rather than pick up the fork Gon had laid down, he took a piece of the cake in his fingers and held it just far enough away that Gon had to reach for it. Once he had it in his mouth, though, he let Gon lick the sweetness from his fingers. And then he picked up the cake plate, and put it back on the table.

 

“Killua, that might not last till tomorrow – ” Gon began.

 

“I don’t care,” Killua said. “I want you even more than the best chocolate you can get.”

 

He pulled Gon on top of him, and Gon didn’t protest anymore. Instead, he tugged off Killua’s briefs and his own shorts, hooked his knees on either side of Killua’s hips and kissed him. Killua pressed up into him as if he couldn’t get close enough, and Gon nipped his throat. Killua tipped his head back, letting Gon kiss his way along his collarbone. His lips were tingling sharply now. His body was tingling. He was hot; he was breathless and dizzy –

 

He was not all right. He was not remotely all right. He wasn’t quite sure what was wrong, but he knew that he had to get out of the tent _right now._

 

Killua dragged himself out from under Gon, and he made it to the edge of the forest before he started heaving. He had just enough presence of mind, as his guts emptied themselves violently onto the sand, to wonder what the hell was going on. He hadn’t vomited since he was a small child – not since he’d been inured to poisons. He didn’t get sick, he could eat or drink anything in the known world without it adversely affecting him. _Anything in the known world…_ He groaned, and threw up again. And again, and again, until finally, shaking and spent, he rolled over onto Gon’s lap and passed out.

 

*

 

Killua awakened to sunlight filtered by airy white fabric. He lay in a soft bed, a cool, wet cloth on his forehead. For a moment, he couldn’t remember where he was. And then he turned and saw Gon’s drawn, anxious face looking down at him, and it all came back to him.

 

When Gon saw his eyes open, tears filled his own. “Killua!” he cried, taking Killua’s face between his hands. “Are you all right? I thought you weren’t going to wake up. I thought I killed you!”

 

“Killed me?” Killua asked, confused.

 

“The cake. The chocolate. The special vanilla. That’s what made you sick! Nothing else ever makes you sick, right?”

 

“Well, no, but – ”

 

“So it had to be that.”

 

Although it was the same thought that he had had, hazily, in the midst of his sickness, now that his head was clear Killua was skeptical. “But other people have eaten it, right? _You_ ate it, and you didn’t get sick. It’s not poisonous.”

 

Gon shook his head. “Not to everyone, no. But not many people will ever have eaten it, so maybe some people are allergic to it and no one knows?”

 

Killua had to laugh. “Allergic to the best chocolate in existence. There must be a karmic message in there somewhere but, well, whatever.” He shrugged. “It’s not like we would have been having it regularly anyway.”

 

Gon pressed his lips together, his brow furrowing. “You’re never getting anywhere near that stuff again. I got rid of the cake, and everything that touched it.” His look of grim determination collapsed into one of dejection. “But Killua – last night was supposed to be perfect, and I ruined it!”

 

Killua smiled, reaching for him. “You didn’t ruin it. You couldn’t have known, and I’m touched that you wanted to make the perfect wedding cake for us. I heal fast; you know that – we’ll get our perfect night. Just give me a few hours.”

 

Gon crawled into Killua’s arms, though he was careful not to put too much weight on him. His honey-brown eyes were still sad around a wrinkle of worry. Killua smoothed it with his fingers. “Really. It’s going to be okay. I just need to rest a little.”

 

Gon nodded and pressed his face into Killua’s chest, and stroked his hair until they both dozed off.

 

*

 

When Killua awakened again, it was afternoon, and he felt almost normal. Gon had tied back the flaps of the tent and he sat in its opening, silhouetted against the blazing blue sky and turquoise sea, his face turned up to the sun. There was a glass of water by Killua, and a sweating pitcher beside it. He picked up both and went to sit by Gon. The look his husband gave him was brighter than the tropical sun.

 

“You’re up!” Gon cried, flinging his arms around Killua.

 

“I am,” Killua smiled, and downed half the glass of water. “And I’m better. I mean, I think the whatever-it-was is out of my system.”

 

Gon’s brow furrowed. “Maybe. But you should still take it easy.”

 

Killua cocked an eyebrow. “Should I? Would an afternoon in bed with you count as taking it easy?”

 

He could see Gon thinking it through – desire clashing with concern in his eyes. At last he said, “How about you eat something, and then maybe I can show you around a little, and if you don’t start puking again, then we can have sex.”

 

Killua laughed out loud. “I’m not sure how you manage to combine utterly smooth with horrifyingly blunt in one sentence, but you just did.”

 

Gon began to protest, but Killua shut him up with a kiss. A kiss that seemed likely to end in the afternoon he had suggested, until Gon pushed him away. “Not yet! You haven’t eaten since you got here and you threw up everything you ate before that. You need food.”

 

Killua had to admit, his stomach felt uncomfortably pinched. “Okay,” he sighed, and let Gon lead him to the table. The contents seemed different than they had the night before – simpler. Knowing Gon, he had probably thrown out anything that had been within a ten-mile radius of the cake. But he was happy enough with the plate of island fruit and cheese and bread that Gon made for him. He ate all of it, and then a second, under Gon’s watchful eye. But he didn’t feel sick again. If anything, he felt much better.

 

“Drink one more glass of water,” Gon urged when Killua refused more food.

 

“Gon, if I drink any more water I’m going to explode. Gods, I’m kidding!” he said when he saw Gon’s look of alarm. “Come on, I want you to show me this place – actually, what _is_ this place?”

 

Gon smiled for the first time since Killua had gotten sick. “It’s called Turtle Island. It’s part of the same archipelago as Whale Island, but it’s the most remote. It’s uninhabited. Not enough water for people to live here full-time, although sometimes fishermen stop here when there’s bad weather.”

 

“It’s beautiful,” Killua said. “I mean, the little of it I saw last night.”

 

Gon smiled his cloudbreak smile. “Oh, Killua! You haven’t seen anything yet! It’s the most beautiful place in the world, that’s why I – ” Abruptly, he stopped.

 

Killua raised his eyebrows. “Why you what?” Gon flushed, and looked away. _Really? Gon, blushing?_ “Gon?”

 

He smiled sheepishly. “I – when we got engaged I kind of thought…well, I thought it would be nice to have our honeymoon here.”

 

Killua blinked into Gon’s wide brown eyes. “That was a year and a half ago! You’ve been planning this for that long?”

 

Gon’s face fell. “Yes. And now it’s all going wrong.”

 

Killua wrapped Gon in his arms. The way that Gon buried his face in the crook of his neck told Killua how upset he still was. “It isn’t all going wrong. I’m fine now, I love this place, and I love you for doing this for us. Please stop worrying and show me around?”

 

Gon looked up, his eyes still anxious, but he smiled and nodded. Killua put on a t-shirt so that his shoulders wouldn’t burn, but he didn’t bother with anything more than the boxer briefs Gon must have put on him after he put him to bed the night before. Gon was still wearing the thin white shorts. Killua could clearly see every twist and dip of muscle through them. The white fabric made the chestnut tone of Gon’s skin even richer. A touch told Killua that they were silk.

 

“Lingerie, my love?” he asked wryly, wrapping a bit around his finger.

 

Once again, Gon blushed. “That’s what you wear on a honeymoon, isn’t it? Do you not like it?”

 

Killua laughed. “Not like it?” He smoothed a hand over the hard curve of Gon’s backside, reveling in the slide of the smooth fabric. “I like it very much. But it isn’t very _you_ to worry about clothes.” He cocked an eyebrow. “Even when they’re barely clothes.”

 

“Well, um, it wasn’t _exactly_ my idea.” Killua’s head was instantly full of fawning shop assistants making sure that the shorts fit Gon _just_ right.

 

“I’m not sure I like the idea of anyone else suggesting you wear transparent shorts,” Killua said evenly.

 

“No, no, it wasn’t like that!” Gon cried. “I just asked Leorio what he thought I should wear on our honeymoon, and he said that when he and Kurapika – ”

 

Killua held up his hands. “Let’s leave it at, ‘I like them.’”

 

“Good, ‘cause I might have gotten you some, too.”

 

Killua smirked. “Oh, did you?”

 

“Mmm,” Gon answered, wrapping his arms around Killua. “They’ll be the perfect thing to put on after…”

 

“After…?” Killua asked, turning in his arms and pulling Gon’s hips against his.

 

“After this!” Gon grinned, picked him up and ran with him into the surf.

 

“GON!” Killua growled, spluttering as he surfaced from the water, and then tackled him into the next wave.

 

Gon came up laughing and kissed him, the salt water slipping into their mouths as it lapped around them. Gon grabbed Killua’s hand and with long, strong kicks he dragged him out beyond the breakers, into more tranquil waters.

 

“See? It’s warm,” Gon said, licking salt from his husband’s lips.

 

“You’re warmer,” Killua said, leaning in for a real kiss. He drew Gon back toward the shore, until the water was shallow enough that they could stand. Then he wrapped himself around Gon and kissed his salty lips again, kissed him until they were sweet, running his hands up the flowing muscles of his back. Gon pulled the wet t-shirt over Killua’s head and dropped it, dipped to lick his nipples. Killua groaned at the sharp prickle of them hardening, dug his fingers into Gon’s hair, and then ground his hips against him.

 

Gon gasped, then reached down and ripped off their underwear. He took both of their cocks in one broad hand, and began to stroke. Killua ran fingers up and down Gon’s back, echoing the gentle currents slipping around them, kissing him as Gon worked them toward what would be a quick climax. Too quick, maybe, but he didn’t care. He’d waited two days for this, and there was a whole long night and many days ahead of them to take their time.

 

Pleasure coiled white and hot in his belly. He tipped his face to the sky as Gon licked and bit at his throat. One more moment and he was going to – “Ouch!” he cried out, as something vice-like and spiked closed around his ankle. He let go of a shocked Gon and grabbed at the source of the pain. His hands closed around something slippery and sinuous. He seized it and dragged it off his ankle, up above the surface of the water: the most revolting creature he had ever seen. Some kind of fish, he thought, its body flabby and stippled a livid purple and yellow, its orange eyes resembling melting blobs of gelatin, its mouth undershot around double rows of jagged teeth dripping greenish slime.

 

Gon’s stunned look turned to one of surprise, and then delight. He grabbed the thing from Killua, holding it up to the light and grinning at it like a proud parent. “Killua, look at it!” he cried.

 

“I’m looking,” Killua said wryly. “Am I meant to be impressed?”

 

Gon blinked at him. “It’s a Turtle Island Tigerfish! Do you have any idea how rare this is? It’s been fifty years since someone spotted one. They’re very solitary.”

 

“With those looks? I’m shocked.”

 

“And extremely shy.”

 

“Gon, that thing had my ankle in a death-grip. I wouldn’t call that shy.”

 

Gon’s distracted gaze suddenly fixed on Killua. “Does the bite hurt?”

 

“Of course it hurts! It’s a bite.”

 

“No, like, more than a normal bite? Does it itch, or sting?” Killua shook his head. “Good. That means you’re immune.”

 

“Immune? To _what?”_

“Their venom,” Gon said, gazing fondly at the fish again. It hissed at him, spitting out an arc of green fluid, which Gon dodged gracefully.

 

“Gon – please put the poisonous fish back and the water and let’s get the hell out of here.”

 

“Without seeing its nest?” Gon looked at him as if he’d suggested eating the thing.

 

“Nest? I thought it was solitary!”

 

“It is, except when it’s protecting its nest. That’s also the only time it ever attacks. So there should be twenty to fifty minnows somewhere nearby.”

 

“Gon, please will you – ” Killua began, but at that moment the fish apparently decided it had had enough, and clamped its offset jaws around Gon’s forearm. His look of rapt delight dissolved into one of pain. Killua grabbed the fish’s jaws and pried them off of Gon’s arm, and he was about to toss the creature as far as he could when Gon yelped.

 

“No! You’ve got to keep it!” His face had gone very pale, his eyes anxious.

 

“Gon – ” Killua began.

 

“You’ve got to, because it has the antidote to the venom, and without it I’ll get paralyzed.”

 

“Permanently?” Killua demanded, wild-eyed.

 

“No. Probably only for a few weeks.”

 

“You idiot!” Killua groaned, but he clamped Gon under one arm and the fish under the other, and brought them both back to the tent in a Godspeed blink. He stuck the fish in a basket where it hissed impotently and spat streams of poison, then lay Gon down gently on the bed. His wrist was ringed with angry red tooth-marks, and had swollen to twice its normal size. He looked at his own bite: no swelling, already healing.

 

“Okay,” Killua said, “tell me what to do. Should I kill it?”

 

“No!” Gon managed to cry. “We need it alive, and besides, the babies…”

 

“Forget the baby fish, and tell me how to make you not paralyzed!”

 

“Tigerfish…survive…hour…out of water,” he mumbled, losing coherence by the moment. “Need…fecal matter…”

 

“Of course we do,” Killua sighed. “Do I have to feed it to you?”

 

“No…on bite…”

 

“That’s one silver lining I guess,” Killua muttered. “So can you tell me how to get it to shit because, you know, time is of the essence.”

 

“Dunno,” Gon muttered, dazed. “Scare it?”

 

In the end, a zap of lightning did the trick, and the fish emptied its bowels of more than Killua would have thought it could contain. For a split-second Killua was elated, and then the smell hit him. Rotting fish, rotting seaweed, and in amongst it something cloyingly sweet. It was all he could do not to start retching again, but he had little faith in Gon’s estimated recovery time from his impending paralysis. So he dumped the fish back in the basket (he would put it back in the sea once he’d seen to Gon, or he’d never hear the end of it.) Then he picked up the bowl of revolting stuff, and drawing one last deep, clear breath, he scooped up a handful and began smearing it on Gon’s arm.

 

 

*

 

When Killua awakened the next morning (he’d only allowed himself to sleep once the swelling in Gon’s arm had receded) Gon was already up, burning the towel with which Killua had wrapped his arm after he applied the “antidote.” Killua paused for a moment to watch him before he let on that he was awake. His black hair streaked over his shoulders, and leaf-shadows played in soft patterns over the plains of his back. He was naked, as they’d both been since their disastrous swim, and there was something both vulnerable and enticing about the divide between the sun-darkened skin that reached to his hipbones, and the pale golden skin below.

 

Killua approached quietly and ran a hand up the ridges of Gon’s spine. Gon arched into the touch, and then turned to smile at him as Killua asked, “Feeling better?”

 

Gon held up his injured arm. The bites were ordinary tooth-marks rather than the angry, oozing welts they’d been the day before. “Much, ” Gon said, reaching for Killua’s hips and pulling him forward. He kissed Killua’s belly, but when his hands dipped lower, Killua stopped him.

 

“Nope,” he said. “We both still smell like fish shit. We are _not_ doing this until we don’t. Is there somewhere we can wash – other than the ocean?”

 

Gon grinned. “I have the perfect place – and I wanted to take you there anyway!”

 

“Is it the territory of any bloodthirsty wildlife I should be aware of?”

 

“No. I went and checked earlier.”

 

“Gon! You should have been resting!”

 

“It’s okay – _I’m_ okay. Nothing’s going to go wrong today!”

 

 _Don’t tempt fate,_ Killua thought, but he kept that thought to himself. “Should we put on clothes?”

 

Gon grinned, his face sweet and bright. “We’d just have to take them off again.” He shrugged. “Besides, I like looking at you like this.”

 

Killua raised his eyebrows. “The view isn’t too bad from here, either.”

 

Gon kicked sand over the remains of the fire, and then twined his fingers with Killua’s, pausing to kiss him before he led him onto a narrow path into the forest. It was different from the forests on Whale Island: denser and wilder. Ferns three times Killua’s height dropped siftings of pollen that gilded the splintered shafts of sunlight. Monkeys chattered and swung in the canopy, and vines as thick as ships’ ropes curled down from vast, moss-covered tree trunks.

 

Gon stopped now and then to point out bright butterflies or small nocturnal animals sleeping out the day in the cool caves of tree hollows; to name the birds they startled as they pushed through the thick foliage. When they’d walked for half an hour or so, Killua began to hear the sound of falling water. It grew in volume as they moved forward, until the forest opened up onto drop of at least thirty feet. At the bottom was a deep depression cupping a brilliant blue pool, water cascading into it from a stream on the far side of the hollow.

 

“This is – this is absolutely gorgeous!” Killua said.

 

Gon smiled softly. “I knew you would love it. You had to. It’s the same color as your eyes.”

 

Killua blushed – okay, apparently he wasn’t beyond blushing either, two-and-a-half years together be damned. He opened his mouth and Gon stopped it with a kiss.

 

“No,” Gon said. “Don’t tell me I’m embarrassing. This is our honeymoon – I get to say things like that to you!”

 

Killua laughed. “I was only going to tell you that you’re sweet. An utter sap, but still sweet. Which,” he said, looking down at his filth-caked fingernails and Gon’s sticky purple wrist, “is more than I can say for your antidote. Let’s get it off.”

 

“I plan to get more than that off,” Gon smirked, and before Killua could whack him, he’d taken off running for the waterfall. When he reached it, he dove, his body straight and bright as a spearhead before he plunged into the water.

 

There was, of course, no choice but for Killua to follow suit. The water was cool but not cold – he doubted that anything on this island ever quite got cold. He surfaced to find Gon floating on his back, eyes closed, his hair fanning around him…and his cock erect. He had to laugh. Only Gon could jump into cold water and come up hard. He swam over to him and ran a finger down his chest. Rather than startle, Gon opened his eyes and smiled, and wrapped himself around Killua.

 

“Hold on, Freecss,” Killua said, putting a hand on Gon’s chest to keep him back. “Remember what happened last time we tried this.”

 

“There are no Tigerfish here, Killua,” Gon said. “I promise. There’s not even anything that bites. Well. Maybe one thing.” He bit the pulse point on Killua’s neck, making him shudder. He was kissing his way along to the other when Killua stopped him.

 

“I am not fooling around with you until we’re clean!”

 

“Fine,” Gon sighed, and set out for a small, sandy beach on one side of the pool. He sat in the shallows, scrubbing at his forearm with wet sand.

 

When Killua reached him he took his hand and rubbed at it gently, rinsing it until all of the residue was gone. He did the same with his fingernails, and then he lay back on the sand as Gon had done, head resting on his arm, turned toward his husband.

 

“You got it off,” Gon said, his eyes dancing like the water of the pool. “So now – ”

 

“Don’t you dare say it again!”

 

Gon’s lips curved into a smile, lush and sweet as summer berries. “How about we just stop talking altogether?”

 

“I don’t know, Gon,” Killua mused, hiding his smile. “That book on marriage that Illumi gave us said that constant communication is key to maintaining a healthy relationship.”

 

“Yeah, well, it said the same thing about sex, so?”

 

Killua’s smile unfolded. “Who am I to argue with pop-psychiatry?” He leaned over and kissed him, and within moments he was as hard as Gon was. He kissed his way down Gon’s chest, then spread Gon’s legs and climbed between them. He took a moment to take him in: so beautiful, laid out against the white sand, full lips parted in the anticipation of pleasure.

 

Killua dipped down and teased the tip of his cock with his tongue, coaxing out a salty trickle and a low moan. Killua took more of it into his mouth, sucking hard with the barest scrape of teeth that he knew drove Gon wild. Right on cue, he felt Gon’s fingers curl in his hair as his hips thrust up.

 

“Killua…wanted to do this for you…”

 

“And I will absolutely take you up on that offer. But you’ve spent one day worrying about me and another fighting fish venom, and right now I want you to relax.” He ducked down again, took Gon’s length into his mouth and for a few moments he was lost in the soft lap of water and Gon’s small cries and his fingers combing through Killua’s hair.

 

Then, abruptly, Gon froze. Reluctantly, Killua raised his head. “Is something wrong?” he asked.

 

Gon’s face was creased with worry. “Rain.”

 

“Rain?” Killua asked, baffled. “I don’t see a cloud in the sky.”

 

“But I can smell it coming. Damn it, it wasn’t supposed to rain, I checked and checked – ” He was on his feet, his eyes clocked toward the sky where, sure enough, Killua could see a thin line of a cloudbank edging over the forest.

 

“Gon, it’s fine. We’ve had sex in the rain before.”

 

Gon finally looked at him, but it was clear that he wasn’t really seeing him. “That’s not what I’m worried about!”

 

Before Killua could ask what he _was_ worried about, Gon was scaling the wall behind them, using vines and rocky handholds to clamber back up to the level of the forest. Sighing, Killua followed him, wondering if they were doomed never to have a wedding night. Or day. Or any kind of sex ever again.

 

He had to use Godspeed to catch up to Gon on the path, but before they were half way back to the beach, a crack of thunder shook the forest and then it was raining, so heavily Killua could hardly see through it. By the time they reached their camp, the tent had collapsed and a muddy stream was pouring across the site, carrying miscellaneous objects with it.

 

Gon took one look at the destruction, grabbed his hair and howled. Then he began to kick things, to pick them up and hurl them in every direction. He was raging as Killua seldom saw him rage, and something about it – his gorgeous, naked, mud-splattered husband throwing mangos at lethal velocity into the sea – was more endearing than any moment with Gon that he could remember. So he let him throw his tantrum.

 

When Gon finally collapsed, spent and dejected in the soggy ruins of the tent, Killua sat beside him and gathered him into his arms, and Gon burst into tears. “Hey, Gon – don’t. Please don’t cry.”

 

“I – I can’t h-help it,” Gon stammered. “All I wanted was a perfect wedding night for us, and every single thing has gone wrong!”

 

“Well,” Killua said, looking out over the sea, where the stormclouds were already retreating, “maybe that’s the problem. Expecting perfection, when life just isn’t perfect.”

 

“But can’t one night be perfect? Just one?”

 

“Gon,” Killua said, an ache in his throat as he looked at his bedraggled and desolate beloved, “we’ve had a lot of perfect nights. And we’ll have many more.”

 

“But our wedding night – ”

 

Killua kissed him. “Our wedding night has been and gone. We spent it partying with our friends, who we never get to see. So we didn’t spend it having sex? Who cares? That’s just a stupid tradition from some stupid time when boys only married girls and no one wanted to raise someone else’s kid. Since we can’t get pregnant, and we aren’t exactly virgins, none of that matters, does it?” Gon was still looking at him dubiously. “Besides,” Killua said, kissing him again, “every single thing hasn’t gone wrong.”

 

“What hasn’t?” Gon asked sulkily.

 

“The only thing that actually matters. We’re here together, and we’re married. After everything we’ve been through, don’t you think that’s kind of amazing? Even, maybe, perfect?” Killua raised his eyebrows and smiled at Gon until, finally, Gon smiled back.

 

“I guess when you look at it that way…”

 

“That is exactly how I look at it. I’m here with you and I couldn’t be happier. And you know,” he continued, as he surveyed the wreckage of their camp, “there’s really only one thing to do with a tent that’s mostly destroyed.”

 

“What?” Gon asked, his eyes curious, the sparkle returning to them at the challenge in Killua’s voice.

 

“Completely destroy it!” Killua said, and he shoved Gon back onto the wet, muddy slop of cotton, pinned his hands, and kissed him, as the sun slipped from behind the retreating clouds and set the dripping world ablaze.

 

 

 


End file.
